Robyn and the Hoodettes

by Ebony McKenna

  Maudlin’s blotched face towered over hers. “Just you try, peasant. You say one word about that and you’ll be worm food faster than you can blink!”

  The woman stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

  Instead of panicking, Robyn couldn’t help smiling. Maudlin was rattled, and Robyn had done the rattling.

  If the Earl of Derby arrived, Robyn could show him Maudlin’s betrayal. As long as she could get to him, which would take a little cunning and a lot of planning.

  Not that she had a clue how she’d do that. In their double planning (or was it triple planning?) she and Marion had thought they might be split up or locked up, but they’d thought it would be in the dungeons, the ones Georgia’s key would open.

  She hadn’t planned on being up here. She wasn’t even sure how ‘up’ she was, so she went to the narrow window again and gently pressed her face closer. Not too close, she didn’t want splinters again. But enough to see she was at eye level with high tree branches, and not the ground. Even if she could break the window edges, how would she climb down?

  Which brought Robyn to the realization that no matter how much Marion loved making plans, sometimes you simply had to deal with the situation as it developed.

  Tiredness took over. The wooden table would be the most comfortable place to sleep. Robyn grabbed a couple of leather-clad books to support her head and she lay down. Which is when she found another splinter that she’d missed. She sat up, curled her knees under her chin and leaned a little against the wall. Enough to hold her in a steady position and not agitate the embedded splinter. The injury made her head throb, even though she knew the shards of wood had to be tiny wee things. How did something so small cause so much pain?

  Being up a little higher put her within range of the window. No tapestry prevented the breeze from whispering through.

  Maudlin is not going to get to me.

  No way.

  I will not let her upset me one bit.

  That crow though . . .

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  By morning, Maudlin came back. In her hands she carried a tray of hot porridge and a tankard of something delicious, judging by the steam rising from it. The little crow sat on her shoulder, like a second pair of eyes, never taking its gaze from Robyn.

  Being the confusing person she was, Maudlin placed the tray on the floor instead of on the table. Robyn’s mouth watered in response.

  “Doing a little reading were you?” Maudlin reached for the books on the table and replaced them on the shelf.

  Not going to answer that.

  All things considered, Robyn hadn’t slept too badly. The table was on par with the cold ground under the carriage. Uncomfortable and hard, but at least she didn’t clonk her head when she sat up.

  Involuntarily, she licked her lips as the aromas on the breakfast tray reached her.

  “Are you hungry?” Maudlin mocked her. “You’re lucky there was any porridge to spare. We have so many more people seeking shelter with us, and we don’t have much left to see us through winter,” her eyes narrowed, “as somebody stole all the bags of oats we had.” Then her tone immediately changed to something far more pleasant. “The mug is hot cider. Would you like some?”

  Instantly Robyn said, “Yes.” She’d be able to think better on a full stomach and a drink. Whatever hot cider was.

  Maudlin made no effort to put the tray closer to Robyn, so she climbed off the table and moved closer to the tray. A sarcastic response nearly leapt out as she noticed there was no spoon. She’d make do then, picking up the bowl with one hand and shovelling the porridge in with her fingers.

  Maudlin tutted and said, “Such terrible table manners. Any wonder your mother prefers the cow.”

  Tease me all you want, abuse me, I don’t care. Who had time to speak when the hot porridge warmed her from within? It was thick and filling and creamy and quite simply the best meal she’d had in ages. OK, maybe the second best, because the devilfish Ellen had made for them was the number one all time greatest. But this came an incredibly close second.

  “Would you like more?” Maudlin asked.

  “Is there?”

  “No there is not.”

  She was toying with her, trying to make her angry. But the warm oats in her belly chased the unease away. Next she sipped the tankard of hot cider. It tasted like heaven. The rich smell of apples, the warmth of the liquid, the soft bubbles on her tongue . . . it nearly brought her undone. Slurp, slurp, she sucked it in.

  “My, my,” Maudlin said, “Who would have thought you’d be so entertaining?”

  Robyn gave up trying to work out what Maudlin was trying to achieve and drained her tankard of cider.

  A burp leapt out.

  Robyn giggled.

  Maybe it was the food, most likely it was the cider, but she curled up on the floor and fell asleep.

  ***

  Somebody nudged her awake. It was Maudlin. Or, more accurately, Maudlin’s booted foot.

  And she was kicking rather than nudging.

  Muscles burned as Robyn righted herself. The porridge she’d eaten had migrated into her brain.

  “The Earl of Derby’s on his way.” That manic gleam in her eye–and the jackdaw’s–was back. “Tell me everything, and I might be able to convince him to spare you.”

  Confused and barely awake, Robyn’s mouth filled with ash as she spoke. “What?”

  “Pardon!” Maudlin corrected her.

  “Pardon?” Robyn croaked. Seriously, not a drop of moisture to spare, she couldn’t even lick her lips. And her eyes were so crusted with gunk she could barely open them properly. What the heck was in that porridge?

  Maybe it was the cider?

  With one firm finger, Maudlin lifted Robyn’s chin to speak directly to her. “I said if you tell me everything, I might convince the Earl to spare your miserable life.”

  “Why?” Robyn croaked.

  “Why would I spare you?”

  Not that. “Why . . . does Derby want me?”

  Smugness made the edge of Maudlin’s mouth curl upwards. “You’re so naive. Roger was on the King’s official business, on behalf of Derby. You interfered with that, which is treason.”

  Confusion swirled inside her. She didn’t even know what treason was, but it sounded horrible. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “That’s a good start. Now, why don’t we get you a nice warm bath and some clean clothes and you can tell me everything.”

  It all sounded so . . . reasonable . . . and a warm bath as well? Saints! There had to be something in that cider because her priorities were all out of whack. She could die happy if she had a warm bath.

  “They will hang you tomorrow,” Maudlin said as she lead Robyn to a room where a cloth-lined tub sat in the centre.

  A curtain of steam rose from it.

  “Yeah . . .” So distracted by the inviting bath, Robyn pulled her tunic off her head, her muscles as stiff as the boards she’d slept on.

  Maudlin may have still been talking, but it was all white noise as Robyn pushed her skirt down. “Not worried about modesty, are you?”

  “Huh?” Robyn reached for the edge of the tub and hefted one foot over the side into the water. Her feet, frozen from the onset of winter and no shoes, fairly boiled as she stepped in. A second later, the heat scorched her skin. She sank her cold body into the hot water, then shoved her feet out the top to give them a reprieve.

  With the same tone that she might use to say, “It’s looking like rain,” Maudlin said, “Marion was the same.”

  “Wait, what?” Robyn’s head whipped around to face Maudlin through the fog of the bath. She had to wave her hands about to clear it.

  “Good, you’re listening,” Maudlin said, pulling up a stool and sitting herself down. From behind a tapestry, a maid appeared and took Robyn’s dirty clothing away.

  Which meant she was trapped in the bath with no clothes to dress herself in, and Maudlin appeared to have no intention of leaving.

&n
bsp; Enveloped in hot water, Robyn’s mind turned to slurry. Her dry throat told her to drink, so she slid further into the bath, until the hot water seeped over her chin. She slurped a little. The water tasted strange and brackish. A strong urge to sleep took hold so she closed her eyes to give them a rest.

  “Don’t fall asleep in the tub, you’ll drown,” Maudlin said, “Marion nearly did. I had to drag him out.”

  That woke her up. Had Marion been in this very tub? The water looked far too clear to be second-hand, but perhaps they’d merely topped it up? And if Marion had been in this tub, and Maudlin had sat nearby . . . did that mean she’d seen him . . . as in, seen him? Jealousy spiked. “Fine, I’ll bite. You had Marion here. Well done. Did you steal his clothes as well?”

  “Careful, you’re beginning to sound ungrateful. But yes, he too had his first bath in years. Climbed in the colour of mud, came out like a newborn. Well,” she cleared her throat, “a little more developed than a newborn. I can see why you fancy him.” Maudlin fanned her face with her hand.

  Heat roared through Robyn and not because of the bath. How unfair that Lady Maudlin should see more of Marion than she had! Honestly, it was a wonder she didn’t sink under the water there and then.

  Robyn slapped her face to focus on the here and now. When that didn’t work, she dunked her head under, swishing her hair in the water to rinse out years of dirt. Gingerly she touched her head where the splinters were. Maybe the water would soften her skin, help push the last one out?

  When Robyn broke through the water’s surface again, Maudlin said, “What are we going to do with you?”

  Too busy enjoying the bath, Robyn ignored Maudlin. It was so nice and warm and blissful. Her aching muscles softened. Another few minutes and she’d feel brand new and ready to face the world.

  Which was when something Maudling had said earlier popped into Robyn’s head.

  “You’re going to hand me over to the Earl of Derby. So he can hang me?”

  “Let’s have a chat about that, shall we?” Maudlin said.

  “You know that I know you’re hiding all that loot in the dungeons. They’re taxes you’re supposed to hand over to The Earl. The way I see it, you’re doing tree-sums as well. You might have to kill me before the Earl gets here, to stop me telling him what I know.”

  “It’s pronounced tree-zun dear, and I am completely in the clear. No fool would send everything to The Earl in the one carriage. There’s too great a risk of losing it all to outlaws. In fact, the Earl will be grateful that I’m storing the taxes so conscientiously and I’ve capture so many outlaws. I’ve made Sheffield safer.”

  Utterly cornered, so to speak, Robyn sunk into the hot water and tried to think

  Maudlin made a moue with her lips, then said, “Poor girl, you were so sure of yourself a minute ago.”

  That was the truth. Nothing Robyn said had made a dent in the woman’s confidence, only in her own.

  Was this how Maudlin converted Ellen to her side? A night in isolation, followed by a hearty spiked breakfast and cider then a steaming bath chaser?

  Maudlin smiled so much it reached her eyes and made triangle creases in her skin. The jackdaw on her shoulder tucked its head under a wing and slept.

  “Robyn dear, I want you to be honest, what do you think me?”

  “Is this a trick question?” Because what Robyn was thinking wasn’t very nice.

  “I want you to tell me what you think of me.”

  Without thinking, Robyn said, “I think you’re weird.”

  “Weird is good.”

  Laughter barked from Robyn. She’d expected Maudlin to be angry at the insult, instead she’d taken it as a compliment.

  “We live in interesting times,” Maudlin said. “One must adapt to changes or be lost to history. Who remembers the old Kings of the Angles and Saxons any more? Gone as swift as a river carries a teardrop to the sea.

  “My forebears were gifted Sheffield for their loyalty to the King. My grandfather bequeathed it to me. I inherited only because he had no sons or grandsons to name. How lucky am I to be considered a slightly better option than the estate returning to the crown?”

  Maudlin looked away. Was she crying? Surely not.

  “Do you know what else? If I marry, all my family property, including Sheffield, is automatically transferred to my husband’s ownership. If I have no sons, he could hand everything upon his death to his nephews or brothers or cousins. That is hardly fair, is it?”

  Confusion swirled like rising bath mist. “I’m sorry Maudlin, but all that bequeathing stuff is over my head.”

  “Of course it is. You are merely a peasant. What would you know of property or inheritance?”

  Nothing at all, which is why Robyn kept boggling. “Is there a point to this?”

  “You are rude!” Maudlin said.

  “Sorry.” At least the raven stayed asleep. If it were awake, it would be ruffling its feathers and beading its eyes on her.

  Looking downcast, Maudlin said in a soft voice, “You are rude, but you are also right. I am weird, and I’m proud of it. You see, I have made choices in this life, choices which allow me to stay in control of my circumstances. I cannot marry, that would cede all power to my husband. I mislike that. I want to retain control of Sheffield, therefore I must not marry.”

  “Sounds kind of lonely,” Robyn said.

  Maudlin laughed, waking the jackdaw which ruffled its feathers. “I said I must not marry. I didn’t say anything about being alone.”

  Heat bloomed across Robyn’s face.

  “Retaining control means remaining strong. If you were me, would you send all the taxes to Derby and starve through the winter?”

  “But they’re our things,” Robyn said.

  “No they are not. You are a peasant, nothing belongs to you. As the law stands, you belong to your liege lord, and that lord is me.

  “The liege lord is supposed to protect us!”

  Robyn glared at Maudlin, who did little more than purse her lips.

  “Next time you look out the window, girl, gaze upon the dozens of peasants directly under my protection. I’d be a lousy liege lord if I let them starve through the winter. Ahhh, but I’ve provided for them, I’m keeping some of the taxes to pay for supplies we so desperately need.

  “What’s left will go to Derby, as he is the Sheriff of Nottingham. He has ten times the mouths to feed. I would hope a sensible man such as Derby would be providing for his peasants as well.

  The long soak wrinkled Robyn’s fingers. “All this talk of taxes is doing my head in.”

  “Would you rather I use the term ‘supply system’? I’m not sure why you’re so against the taxes. They’ll be used to benefit your father down the line.”

  “They will?”

  “War is expensive. The road to Jerusalem is a long one. The crusade may last until Christmas. Next year.”

  “I’m sick of war too.”

  “It is the way of the world,” Maudlin said with a wave of her hand.

  The steam rose around Robyn, softening her sore muscles, but not her sense of injustice. She felt powerless in the tub, what with being naked and slippery, she couldn’t very well leap out and crack some sense into Maudlin’s scone.

  Maudlin said, “If you think I’m horrible, it’s because I have no choice. The Earl of Derby outranks me. Prince John outranks him. The King outranks Prince John. I must answer to people who outrank me. If not, I shall be replaced with someone who will do their bidding. If you think I’m horrid, whoever takes my place will be utterly hideous, of that I’m certain.”

  Robyn gulped.

  “Good, I’m getting through to you. I think it took longer with Marion, not that I minded.”

  “Stop talking about Marion!”

  “And now I have your weakness. This is something you must learn, Robyn. To reveal a weakness is to reveal how your enemies can destroy you. Do you know what my weakness is?”

  Robyn shrugged, barely caring any more. “Yo
u’re a raving banshee?”

  Laugher ricocheted around the room as Maudlin threw her head back and cackled. Rook flew off her shoulder and flapped in the air, then settled on the edge of the tub.

  “You know what?” Maudlin wiped her eyes, “I am a banshee. It’s one of my strengths. Own your strengths, girl. You’ll need them.”

  By some unseen signal another maid appeared from behind a tapestry again. This one carried folded clothes.

  “You will get dressed now. You have an important decision to make. Either you work for me, or you hang.” Then she swept from the room in a swirl of confidence, the bird flapping to catch up and rest on her shoulder.

  On shaking legs, Robyn rose from the tub and stepped into the linen sheet the maid held for her. The rough fabric dried her soaked skin.

  Pulling on the clothes, she felt strangely transformed. The hose was so light and soft, the long skirt heavy and draught-free, the tunic thick and warm, closing around her neck with laces to keep the heat inside and the cold out.

  Which only served to confuse Robyn all the more. Being comfortable could prove addictive. Perhaps she should work for Maudlin, just for a little while?

  If she did, would she ever be able to break out and be herself again?

  And what of Marion? Had he too been broken by an empty night on his own, then seduced with good food, a hot bath and clean clothes?

  Was that all it took to get a person to change sides?

  Disappointment sagged her shoulders. Mentally, Robyn didn’t feel broken, but she knew the cracks were there. Maudlin had merely opened them a little more. All this time she thought she’d been finding Maudlin’s weakness. Instead, Robyn had revealed her own.

  Marion.

  How frustrating that Maudlin had managed to see what she could not. That she was madly in love with Marion and she hadn’t even known it.

  Saints! She was in love with Marion.

  Heck of a time to work that out, what with the Earl of Derby on his way, keen to string her up on a gibbet.

  All it had taken was to drop his name a few times and watch her squirm. Robyn had to give it to her interrogator, she was good.